


Conjugal Visit

by TheSmutFaries



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, So much smut, implied voyuerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 17:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11878914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSmutFaries/pseuds/TheSmutFaries
Summary: While detained at the ICE detention center, Ichabod had a special visitor.  WHO COULD IT POSSIBLY BE AND WHY IS SHE THERE TO SEE HIM?





	Conjugal Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Trying to comb through tumblr and find the anon fics that were foisted onto unsuspecting ichabbie shippers, polish them up, and post them here. This is one of those fics.

“I don’t get it.”  
Ichabod frowns as he follows one of the more cordial guards, Michael, down an unfamiliar hallway. “To what do you refer?” he asks, taking in all he can to commit to memory.  
Michael stops abruptly before a nondescript door and swipes a card to allow them entrance. “How did you do it?” Michael asks. Ichabod’s cuffs are removed and they continue through the room. 

The room is furnished with one table and one chair but there is another door on the far wall, identical to the one they just entered. “Where are we?” Ichabod asks, suddenly wary. The situation suddenly had him on high alert. He had seen this on the television. It never ended well for the one being led to an unfamiliar part of the detention center.

Michael swipes his card again and just shakes his head. “Must be something I can’t see,” Michael says, and opens the door to reveal Grace Abigail Mills. 

Ichabod considered his memory perfect but it was a poor record indeed when compared against the real thing. He greedily takes in her appearance. 

Her hair is shorter, just gracing her delicate brown shoulders. The bodice of her dress consists of horizontal black and white stripes, clinging to curves Ichabod knew existed but unfortunately rarely witnessed, her bosom welling from cups that seemed woefully inadequate every time she took in a breath. It accentuates her tiny waist then skims softly with gauze like fabric. 

He hears the rustle of the material over the roaring in his ears as she comes closer, an enigmatic smile upon her full lips. Ichabod and Michael swallow audibly, Ichabod drawing himself up to his full height as Abbie stops just inside of his personal space. Her eyes flicker to Michael and she gives him a sultry grin. “I’d like to be alone with my fiancé now,” she purrs, and Ichabod almost gives the ruse away at the way he cannot stop blinking down at her. She flutters her lashes at Michael. “I’ve missed him something fierce…”

“Yes, please,” he says, turning to Michael and immediately scowling. Michael isn’t staring at Abbie’s face, but at the ocular feast of cleavage and collarbone. 

“Yeah, right.” Michael shakes his head and looks at Ichabod sourly. “How? Just how,” he mutters, but closes the door behind him. 

Suddenly Ichabod is terrified he’ll look down and it won’t be Abigail but some hulking demon sent to destroy him at his lowest. He deserved it. 

“You’ve got to play along,” Abbie says lowly as she moves even closer to him. Her arms stretched up so she could lounge her wrists over his shoulders and tug at his shortened locks. “You cut your hair,” she noted.

Automatically Ichabod curls his arms around her slight form to accept her and though there has been no communication between them for almost a year it still feels painfully natural. A part of him loosens with her in his arms, and he presses his face against the crown of her head and breathes in the subtle shea butter and tea tree oils from her moisturizers. 

Suddenly there is so much he wants to say but none of it can move past the boulder of guilt in his throat. “Leftenant, what -” he murmurs, finally. 

“Sometimes you’ve gotta improvise,” she says, beaming up at him. 

“But as my fiancé?” Ichabod asks. 

“Couldn’t use my credentials and I couldn’t come as your sister,” Abbie points out. “This gives us privacy and a little more time.” 

Ichabod nods and glances around the room. It’s spare, one chair and a full sized bed shoved against the fall wall. No windows save one pointing inside the room from the door Ichabod was pushed through. He gapes at the bed and Abbie can’t help but chuckle. Cameras loom in the corners of the room, glaring at them.

“Need to do better than this,” Abbie mutters before she laughs and leans up to brush her lips against his. “We’re probably being watched,” she exhales against his mouth. Her eyes flickered to one of the cameras.

“They would watch?” Part of Ichabod requires him to stalk from the room and box the ears of those who would think themselves worthy to see his fellow witness in anything less than full battle gear. He could only imagine the courteous Michael watching what was unfolding in the room and felt his blood boiling.

“Focus,” Abbie snaps lowly and Ichabod’s hands flutter with barely restrained ire. “Let’s sit down,” she suggests. 

Ichabod nods, wary of the bubbly, light Abbie before him. He feels unworthy to even touch her but he follows her and sits stiffly in the only chair. 

Abbie looks at him for a moment before gathering her skirt and straddling his lap. 

“What are you doing?” Ichabod hisses, dismayed at how quickly his member rises to tumescence and unsure of where to put his hands. He yearns to place his hands beneath Abbie’s skirt and rake his fingers up her glorious thighs until he fills his hands with her delectable backside. Ichabod wants to press his face against the impossibly full mounds of her cleavage and inhale the scent that haunts his dreams.  
“You don’t look happy to see me,” Abbie jokes, her bottom lip poking out in a cute pout, as she leans forward.  
Ichabod glances down at her chest briefly before tearing his gaze away. “I’m overjoyed to see you, Leftenant, it is just… I did not expect you to come,” he admits, attempting to tear his gaze from anything that wasn’t the smooth expanse of Abbie’s skin.  
“I haven't come yet, baby, I was hoping you could make me.” Abbie tilts her head and leans forward. “Why didn’t you call me? Was it that easy to forget about me?” She makes a small whimpering sound as she guides his face to her chest, fingers in his hair, then to her throat which smells of a flowery perfume.

Ichabod’s breath leaves him in one fell swoop. How could she think – How could anyone – He sputters. “You misunderstand,” Ichabod objects. His hands land at her waist as he hugs her earnestly, closing his eyes as his mouth brushes the delicate satin that is the skin of her shoulder. 

“Wish you could explain it to me,” Abbie whispers, her grip on him just as tight. 

“It was never my intent to harm you,” he says lowly. 

“If I had a nickel,” Abbie shoots back. 

Ichabod doesn’t know what could be worse, the fact that Abbie merely looks resigned to such a fate or that he was one in a long line of people in her life to make her think it true. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs the useless words against her neck and places a kiss against her skin to seal the apology. “Forgive me,” he breathes, and Abbie inhales sharply as Ichabod’s tongue darts against that patch of skin on her neck that makes her eyes flutter closed. 

Abbie is sad and angry and what makes her even angrier is that when she shifts in Ichabod’s lap and feels his hardened length against her, it makes her core throb. She’s still in the same position as when he left. “Why should I?” she asks with annoyance, and it makes Ichabod lift his head to stare into her eyes. Try as she might she can’t hide herself from him and it makes her arms tremor just slightly around his neck. 

Ichabod realizes he has no answer, and does the first thing that comes to mind. He leans forward and kisses her. In shock Abbie opens her mouth and he slips inside, deepening the kiss. She moans into his mouth, rocking her hips down on Ichabod’s lap and inhaling his tortured groan. Ichabod finally lets his hands slip beneath Abbie’s skirt and tears his mouth away from hers as the pads of his fingers skate up the silk of her thighs. 

“Your skin is a revelation I never dreamt I’d know,” Ichabod admits as his hands slide higher and higher. He swallows audibly. “Leftenant, you aren’t wearing any underwear,” he whispers, as if it’s news to her. 

Abbie laughs breathlessly. “Underwear didn’t really go with this outfit,” she says, and throws her head back when Ichabod grabs a handful of her ass and squeezes. 

“And I am haunted almost nightly by your plentiful curves.”

Abbie thought she could do this – be unaffected and play Ichabod’s soon-to-be wife. Even as her body is spiraling higher, even as every inch of her is screaming in relief… her heart is hurting. “Crane,” she says lowly, and Abbie curses the tear that slips from her eyes. 

“Oh, my dear heart,” Ichabod murmurs as he kisses away her tears. “I am so ashamed at how I have treated you, how I’ve neglected you,” he says. “I have done great wrong against you and am unworthy of your presence.” 

Ichabod makes no moves to remove Abbie from his grasp, instead rises from the chair with her in his arms as if she weighs nothing. Abbie gasps and twines her legs around his waist as he walks them to the bed and gently rests her against the faded comforter. Her heart beats faster as she looks up at him, his long frame looming over her as he angles his body to obscure most of hers from any prying eyes. “Why are you in my heart?” Abbie asks heavily.

“Your soul is better than mine,” he says. Ichabod’s eyes rove over her prone form and his heart feels fit to burst. “You are true beauty inside and out, Grace Abigail Mills. Although I left for longer than I planned and there was no correspondence between us… You still deign to visit this inhospitable prison for what? For me?” Like a man possessed Ichabod trails his thumb along Abbie’s full bottom lip. “I am wholly undeserving to have a place in such a beautiful heart.”

“There is nothing I’ve done my entire life to deserve you standing by my side,” he says. Abbie pins him with a dark stare as his hand travels down her neck to feel the fluttering pulse at the base of her neck. His downward journey continues across her collarbone and the pronounced swells of her breasts. “Simply divine,” Ichabod chokes out. “How are you real? It is as if God himself reached deep inside of me to find what would drive me to torment. Then brought it before me.”  
“You’re my greatest weakness, too, Ichabod,” Abbie whispers, and his eyes catch her gaze in surprise.  
“You called me Ichabod,” he says, his touch a little firmer now.  
Abbie glances away and Ichabod moves between Abbie’s welcoming legs so he can leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses along the graceful column of her bared throat. Ichabod feels as if his soul could leave his body at any time as he feels Abbie press her chest against his and groan loudly. 

He captures her mouth in a deep, almost sinful kiss and Ichabod can’t keep his hands from roaming. They find their way beneath Abbie’s skirt again and go higher and higher until they both groan when he encounters how hot and wet she is. Abbie throws her head back against the bed as Ichabod gently runs the pads of his fingers up and down, spreading her moisture around. 

“My treasure, does it feel good?” he greedily watches Abbie’s expression as he sinks a digit inside. 

Abbie doesn’t care if anyone is watching anymore. She widens her legs for better access and keens gratefully when Ichabod adds another finger. “Right there,” she sighs as she rocks down on his hand. His fingers are long and thick and making her feel amazing already as they take up a steady rhythm, sliding wetly in and out of her body. “Oh God, baby… I’ve missed you so much…”

Ichabod stares, riveted as Abbie’s hips move under her skirt, the sensation of her hot, wet folds around his fingers and he can imagine the bliss of sinking into her body balls deep. He would tilt her hips up to meet his thrusts, moving deeply inside of her as she tightened around his length, harder and faster until he made the universe explode inside of her. 

Ichabod curls his fingers gently and drags them against the Abbie’s walls. 

The effect is immediate as she arches off of the bed in a silent scream. A tingly sensation begins to pool in her belly as Abbie tries to get traction enough to fuck Ichabod’s hand. She’s close, so close – 

“Abigail, my Grace Abigail. Let me do this for you. Let go my treasure, I’ve got you,” Ichabod murmurs lovingly and it’s a combination of the security she feels and the dark timbre of his voice that makes her slip over the edge. 

Abbie comes hard, crying out desperately as she rears off the bed, reaching for Ichabod. He groans and grabs her flailing hand with his free one, shuddering with need as she drenches the hand within her to the wrist. 

Ichabod reluctantly leaves the furnace of Abbie’s body and sucks his fingers. Her essence hits his tongue and he is a man starved. “You are finer than all the carefully aged spirits, my darling one,” he says. “I must taste you.”

Abbie can only nod her head weakly and shout after Ichabod slides between her legs and pushes his face against her. The soft scratch of his beard feels unreal against her hypersensitive flesh but when his tongue slides between her lips Abbie is shocked how close she is again. It feels so decadent, the sensation of Ichabod smearing her juices on his face and beard as he licks into her with wide, sure strokes. 

He’s teasing her as she attempts to lift her hips to meet the thrusts of Ichabod’s tongue but he’s holding her hips down and she can’t move like she wants. 

“Ichabod,” she cries out, and he stops, startled at the way his name sounds in her throat. He feasts on her enthusiastically, to hear her call his name like that again. Abbie looks at him down the length of her body and catches his vaguely smug gaze and feels her cheeks heat. 

_Damn this man_ , she thinks.  
Abbie breathes deep as Ichabod mouths wetly up her body, beard glistening with her juices and she surprises him by kissing him deeply and pulling him down to her body. “Can’t you get out of this hideous jumpsuit?” she whines as she begins to tug at the snaps. Ichabod chuckles darkly and Abbie shivers. She has to duck her head at the way her body is so responsive to him. 

Ichabod gently lifts her chin and there is no smugness there, only a deep yearning that makes her feel empty and aching. 

“I need you,” she says.

Ichabod kisses her again, his hand finding the zipper on the side of her bodice. He slides it down to reveal more satin skin and he groans when he realizes she wears nothing beneath it. “You’ve come to kill me,” he says solemnly and Abbie bursts out laughing. 

The joyful noise causes him to smile his first true smile in quite some time. Abbie finishes what Ichabod seems incapable of doing and slowly reveals the fullness of her breasts to his gaze. He buries his face in her cleavage, and just as Abbie is about to laugh again Ichabod yanks the bodice down and his lips close around her left nipple. Abbie’s laugh collapses into a groan and she shivers as she feels a soft scrape of teeth. “Crane…” 

“I am not worthy to give myself to you yet, so I lay upon the altar that is your body pleasure upon pleasure,” Ichabod rumbles against her ear and Abbie has to close her eyes against the flash of heat that leaves her whimpering. She tugs the dress up and over her head, gloriously nude and free to move as she likes, beyond caring who is watching. So with great relish she fucks herself on what is now three of Ichabod’s fingers, chasing her next orgasm. 

Ichabod’s jaw drops as he hovers over her, watching parts of Abbie’s body bounce as his fingers disappear inside of her. He uses the pads of his fingers to rub against her slick walls, widening his fingers as he pulls them out and pushes them back in. Due to his height it’s nothing for Ichabod to lean up and plumb the depth of Abbie’s gorgeous mouth, eagerly swallowing her shuddering cries. 

Abbie throws her arms around Ichabod’s neck, clinging and whimpering desperately. “So good,” she keens, and laughs as Ichabod sits back, bringing her onto his lap. Gravity does the heavy lifting as she sinks down onto his fingers and her back bows. 

“My God,” Ichabod breathes as Abbie pins him with a lustful stare and begins to move her hips. Abbie feels as if her entire body is humming and all her muscles and brain can agree upon is chasing the sensation pooling in her groin. 

“I need to feel you in me,” Abbie breathes against Ichabod’s mouth, which has gone slack with lust. “I want to sit on your lap while you fill me – so hard, ugh, inside of me…” She drags her fingers through his hair and scratches his scalp as she groans long and low. 

Ichabod stares right back into Abbie’s eyes and uses his thumb to slowly circle her clit. Abbie’s hips stutter but quickly regain a frantic rhythm. “You know not what you ask… Come for me again, my Grace Abigail.” 

Abbie closes her eyes and shudders as that voice does things to her. She wants to come, she’s desperate to come but – Abbie opens her eyes, searching Ichabod for an answer and she doesn’t even know the question. “I… I need…” She shakes her head, barely capable of full sentences. She rips open Ichabod’s jumpsuit and hisses as her nipples drag against his bare chest. 

“Don’t you want me?” she asks, her voice a low growl, and the last thread of Ichabod’s control snaps.

Want. As if a mere word could convey the depths of which his mind, body and soul has starved for her presence and longs for her touch. Ichabod doesn’t remember throwing Abbie onto the bed, nor when he removed his jumpsuit and underclothes – but he is finally nude as he crawls between Abbie’s thighs, and she can’t help but stare at his cock, hard and red as it stands, thick and heavy looking. 

Abbie’s hands slip down her hips involuntarily and Ichabod grabs them, putting a gentle kiss against each of her palms. “Oh no,” he says. “You won’t be needing those.” Ichabod hungrily captures Abbie’s mouth again, running his hands up her arms and down her body. He cups her full breasts and kneads them gently grinning into the kiss at how sensitive Abbie’s body is to his touch, at the play of muscle beneath the satin of her skin and the noises she makes.  
His hands skim down and dip into the contours of Abbie's sides, endlessly fascinated as his hands span very nearly the entirety of her waist. “Your body is a delicious conundrum of obvious delicacy and hidden strength.” Ichabod’s hands trail down the flare of Abbie’s hips and desperately palms her thighs and sighs as she parts her legs further in anticipation. “You have been tempting me for so very long Grace Abigail Mills.” 

He yanks her down, closer, and rubs the head of his cock against her dripping folds. They both groan at the contact and Ichabod sincerely begins to wonder if he will last past the first thrust if it feels as good as this. 

“You know, I’m beginning to think you’re all talk, Crane,” Abbie says, daring to move her hips slightly, trying to bite her lip against the shocks of pleasure in her groin. 

Ichabod’s eyes narrow and with no preamble smoothly slides inside Abbie to the hilt. 

As gratified as he is at seeing Abbie’s back bow, Ichabod’s thighs are trembling as he grips the rickety rails of the headboard and fights against coming inside of her immediately. There is nothing that could have prepared him for such a sensation and Ichabod wants to bury himself inside of Abbie for all time, but he does not move. Abbie’s fingernails scrape down his arms as she shivers in his grasp. “Move,” she demands, weakly smacking his arm. Ichabod wishes he had some witty retort but his throat is locked around the need to breathe and he just…can’t. 

“Oh god,” Abbie says, realizing she’s poked the wrong bear. Ichabod is thick and long in just the right way and without even moving he’s insistently rubbing against her spot with every flex and breath he takes. “You’ve gotta move,” she whimpers, desperate not to come on his cock without him moving. His head would be bigger than it already is but her body isn’t listening as she begins to fidget uncontrollably, anything to delay what feels like the inevitable. 

Abbie shifts and suddenly it’s so much better as she’s staring up at him trying to recapture his calm. “Oh no, oh god,” Abbie moans as she begins to move her hips. 

“Abigail, I must plead you not to –” Ichabod groans as he presses himself deeper, rolling his pubic bone against her clit. Abbie thrashes and comes hard, noiseless as Ichabod withdraws and thrusts forward with an obscenely wet sound. 

It is almost frictionless, the sensation of Abbie’s wetness enveloping Ichabod’s cock like a liquid glove. Ichabod sets a steady pace, watching Abbie’s face for every expression of satisfaction and awe as she comes down but he doesn’t want her coherent. No, he considers as he adjusts his hips and pulls her lithe, responsive body onto his cock. Abbie’s mouth drops open in shock and Ichabod thinks – yes, there – and begins thrusting in earnest. 

Abbie grabs at her breasts, teasing her nipples while Ichabod licks his lips, watching her touch herself. He pulls her up so she’s sitting in his lap and lifts her just enough so that gravity takes over, making his hard cock disappear inside of her over and over again. Abbie’s breasts are within kissing range, biting range, licking range and he does so, teasing the most delicious noises from her throat as he uses his tongue to flick at her hard nipples, feeling crazed with lust. 

“Oh god, harder,” she moans. Ichabod is in a frenzy; Abbie feels too good and he feels his cock is made of iron. 

He’s so hard but he wants to see her come again, to fall apart while inside of her. Abbie scratches her fingernails through Ichabod’s shortened locks and meets him thrust for thrust, her body screaming for another climax. He grins down at her wickedly and before Abbie can wonder he smugly thrusts in and stays, pressing against her spot and rubbing with minute swivels of his hips.

“Oh fuck,” she swears, and slaps at his arms, shoulders, anything she can to keep it from feeling so good. “Oh god, please,” Abbie babbles, but she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. She can’t move to get the pressure off of her spot and her body rockets toward yet another orgasm. “I am, ugh… not giving... Oh fuck… Move! I am not gonna come – I am… oh god, ugh, fuck… fuck… ohhh!” Abbie falls apart, tightening around Ichabod as her body trips into her orgasm. 

Ichabod moves his hips and her body reacts by involuntarily pushing her over the precipice again. Abbie comes so hard she can’t speak in the throes of pleasure bordering on pain. Ichabod is merely a man and cannot withstand the sight of sweet surprise as Abbie achieves completion in spite of proclamations and he finds himself finally moving, chasing his own orgasm. 

He comes with her name on his lips like a revelation, spilling himself inside of her for what seems to be forever before just managing to withdraw and collapse next to than upon her fully sated form. Both of them are silent in efforts to catch their breath but Ichabod, as tactile as he is, cannot help but draw his fingers up and down Abbie’s arm and across her clavicle, reverently over the full mounds of her breast and down the plane of her heaving abdomen. 

“Well Lieutenant, am I all talk?” Ichabod’s heart sings as Abbie shivers slightly at his tone. 

“Yeah,” she says breathlessly. “But maybe you can back it up.” 

Ichabod presses a kiss to Abbie’s shoulder. “I meant what I said,” he murmurs. “I do not consider myself worthy of you. But,” he says as she opens her mouth, “I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove myself to you.” 

Abbie looks at him for a moment and nods. “Then stay,” she says. “Show me that you will stay.”

Ichabod seals their accord with a kiss.


End file.
